Page 75 of Pink

Lev hung up on the sound of Nessa’s laughter knowing she wouldn’t be too offended. Ninety percent of their friendship was made up of them taking cheap shots at one another, anyway. It wasn’t like this had been anything new.

Not wanting to leave Gigi alone any longer than he had to, Lev left the men’s bathroom to go in search of her. He expected to find her at the table near the dartboard—he promised his phone call wouldn’t last long—but instead found her back at the bar. With a phone pressed to her ear as she nodded and then replied to whatever conversation she was having, she passed her empty glass to the bartender. Just as quickly, she turned her back to the man now cleaning her glass, going back to her call.

He did a sweep of the bar.

The few people inside still weren’t that interested in the celebrity that was only a few feet away from some of them—excusing the bartender seemingly recognizing Gigi, that was. Then again, he figured the age group of most of the bar’s patrons probably wasn’t that in the know in regards to famous people. Or they just didn’t care.

Gigi noticed Lev’s approach and held up one finger while her gaze slid toward the phone she still had pressed to her ear.

“Another drink, man?”

Lev draped an arm around Gigi’s waist and shook his head. It seemed like the second he was touching her and back at her side, she only wanted to be closer, moving against him until her body was tight to his. He liked that just fine, too. “No, we’re going to head out, I think.”

“Ah, okay. Think I could get her autograph before you go, or nah?”

He gave the man a look.

Really?

The bartender shrugged. “Never know if you don’t ask, right?”

Well, that was fair.

“Not tonight,” Lev said. “But I’ll see what I can do for you another time maybe.”

That satisfied the man. He shot Lev a nod and a thumbs-up before returning to his task of wiping out glasses.

That was as much of a promise as he could do seeing as how he didn’t know where this night, or the days after, would lead him and Gigi. He was, however, quite aware that he would be back at this bar at one point or another, and the bartender wasn’t likely to forget Lev’s words.

Not only was the place somewhere he frequented for his own enjoyment, but the bar was also mob-owned through a shell company Andino used to launder dirty money until it was clean. Illegal cash was funneled into the business, making it look like the place was more successful than it was, and it basically came out as profit on the other side that Andino paid taxes on. Or that’s how the man explained it once.

Lev didn’t understand much about that shit. He tried not to ask too many questions because the less he knew about the mafia and its workings, the better it would be for him if the police or FBI ever came knocking with questions for him. It was hard to answer shit you didn’t know, right?

“Absolutely, five minutes, then?”

Gigi’s question drew his attention back to her. She watched him from the side, those green eyes of hers worthy of drowning in when he stared back at her. The small smile tilting her plump lips upward at the corners had him leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

She didn’t seem to mind.

He only wanted more.

Her smile grew into something sexier when his kiss traveled from the side of her mouth to the underside of her jaw. His next kiss came with his tongue flicking out to taste her skin, and then he sucked on the same spot, too.

Just because.

“Okay, thanks,” Gigi said on the phone, her free hand fisting into his button-down with enough force to strain the fabric, “really appreciate this, Kayla. You’re the best.”

She hung up the phone but didn’t even take the time to explain the call or the reason why before she turned her head into his next kiss. There was no softness in the rushed, bruising hunger of their lips molding together, their tongues tangling with every stroke until he had to pull away for a breath.

Gigi blinked up at him. “You still have no patience.”

“That’s not the case at all, sweetheart.”

“Oh?”

“With you, I just don’t have any control.”

Her hand laid flat against his stomach, her fingernails raking tender lines overtop the fabric of his shirt and making his muscles clench over and over. Such a fucking tease. Her hand could be a little lower; he knew it, so did she.